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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464201">put on my pretty face</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>nonbinary roy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Roy Mustang, Other, jeanroy is REAL ms. arakawa told me herself, they......... are soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:13:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it was five in the morning, and his skin didn’t fit right.</p><p>a look at roy, his relationship with jean, and his relationship with himself. whoever that may be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jean Havoc/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>nonbinary roy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>put on my pretty face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm back on my enby roy bullshit!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>it was five in the morning, and his skin didn’t fit right.</p><p>maybe it was his shoulders, his cheekbones, his chin. he was a painting of protrusions, all strong angles and sharp corners, jutting out in unwelcome places. his nose, too large and angular, like a hawk. his hands, short and broad, adorned with fingernails bitten to the quick. maybe it was his mouth, the way thin pink skin pulled too-taut against bone-white teeth. </p><p>he felt stretched too thin, like he was too small to hold all of this inside him. the churning feeling he carried in his stomach like an unwelcome gift, the ache inside his chest like a fever that wouldn’t break. it followed him like a spectre, twining around his arms and squeezing like a vise. some days, it was a gentle thing. he didn’t mind the soft stubble against his cheeks, the way his hair fell in choppy layers over his eyes. it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but who ever got what they wanted?</p><p>but other days, it was worse. the uniform helped, somewhat. it was the same for everyone in the military, just as harsh and posturing as riza’s and maria’s. but it crawled up his spine and dug into the tender flesh in the small of his back. the way his shoes didn’t feel right, the coarse fabric of the thick pants digging into his calves. the rough skin of his face and his hands, the cold breeze along the back of his neck. it was a shiver that curled into his lungs and made a home for itself. there was no home for him in this empty body.</p><p>today was a bad day.</p><p>he couldn’t sleep. couldn’t curl up like he normally did, arms close and legs tucked closer. it was too close, today. he could feel every bare inch of skin pressing together, all tangled and twitching and so incredibly wrong. this body wasn’t his, just a loaner. he wanted out of this bag of discomfort and bones. it just wasn’t his. and he couldn’t bear to feel it any more than he had to. but of course, jean was also asleep right next to him, which also threw a wrench in his normal sleeping plans.</p><p>they’d been together for what, months? roy wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t going to count. putting numbers to a thing like this was laughable. it was delicate and ethereal and if he breathed on it too hard, it would shatter. they existed in a hazy balance between late nights and the pitch dark of the early morning, and roy would do just about anything to keep it this way. even if it meant that they weren’t official, or exclusive. even if jean was sleeping with someone else. it was good enough. it was all that a faulty machine of a man like him deserved.</p><p>jean snored sweetly, his arms draped over roy’s stomach. his hair was mussed from sleep and he no longer smelled like cigarettes, but sharp mint and citrus. his chest was pressed up against roy’s back. the casual touch was comforting and loving, but it was also suffocating. the air in the room was getting too warm, and maybe it was thinning out, and suddenly roy needed to run, to leave, to get out of this room and out of his body.</p><p>without disturbing jean, or as little as he could, roy slipped out of the cotton sheets and made his way to the bathroom. he knew his apartment like he knew jean, and he could easily navigate it in these early hours before sunrise. the floors creaked and the hinges wailed, but those were unavoidable hazards of a rickety old apartment. the door slid open and the switch flickered on, and Roy saw a face in the mirror.</p><p>he wasn’t sure if it was his.</p><p>everything was gaunt, tilted, stretched and ragged. the stubble on his cheeks was a wild burst of undergrowth, warped and wrecked beyond recognition. the shadows under his eyes ran for miles and gave his already pallid skin a ghoulish taint. his cheekbones and his nose and his chin and his mouth. it was all wrong. so, wrong. He ran a slow, heavy hand through his hair. it was soft and slid like water through his fingers. that was good. </p><p>“why are you up so early?” a tired voice called from across the room. “it’s too dark out for preening. come back to bed, darling.”</p><p>The word ran through him like liquor, warm and electrifying. “i'm not preening.”</p><p>“whatever you’re doin’, get back here. it’s cold and we don’t have to be up for a while. besides, i need a bit more time with you, handsome.”</p><p>his fingers twitched and something snapped. “I'm gonna head into the office early,” roy said coldly, grabbing his uniform off the chair and pulling the bathroom door tightly closed. “see you there.”</p><p>ruffling noises sneaked under the threshold, and the door opened again. “hey,” jean said roughly, his voice heavy from sleep. “what’s with you?”</p><p>“nothing,” roy ground out, “i just wanna get a head start on some paperwork.”</p><p>jean snorted. “that’s bullshit, and you know it. c’mon, roy.”</p><p>roy shook his head, stress pooling under his ribs like a gas leak. sooner or later, it would catch, and everything would go up in flames. “there’s nothing to talk about, jean. go back to bed.”</p><p>“make sure you return your ‘boyfriend of the year award’ on the way out,” jean quipped, a slight edge to his words, but not enough to bite.</p><p>“don’t call me your boyfriend,” roy said softly, so only he could hear.</p><p>jean raised an eyebrow. “what was that?”</p><p>roy winced, feeling the panic spread through his veins like a virus. “i said, don’t call me your boyfriend,” the words hard and unfamiliar on his tongue. there was more heat to them than he expected. jean didn’t seem to be expecting it either.</p><p>“is that what this is about?” jean snapped, annoyed and a bit confused. “look, we don’t have to be official if you want. hell, we can break up, too. but don’t beat around the bush. tell me what you want, like a big boy.”</p><p>each word hit roy like a punch. “i don’t want to break up, havoc,” he said after a long moment, “but i’m gonna need you to stop calling me ‘boy’.”</p><p>“i- what?”</p><p>the words rose like bile in roy’s throat, but he choked them down. “i’m not a boy. i’m not a man. and i’m not a woman either, so don’t try it. you either keep this to yourself, or i’ll send your body so deep into hell that you’ll never see sunlight again. got it?”</p><p>jean’s blue eyes creased softly. “so we’re not breaking up?”</p><p>“no, you idiot.” roy said sharply, sighing. “i… quite like you. but i’m not exactly what you signed up for.”</p><p>“so, let me get this straight. you’re not a man, and you’re not a woman. are you somewhere in between?” jean’s voice was curious, not condescending, and it soothed roy like sweet honey and lemon tea.</p><p>roy furrowed his brow. he’d never given it too much thought, to be honest. he just knew that we never quite fit, and he’d accepted it as much as he could. thinking more about it just felt like asking for more trouble. more trouble that he would never, ever need.</p><p>“i don’t know,” roy offered, “but that sounds about right.” he paused for a long second. “you’re okay with that? with still being with… a person like me?”</p><p>jean’s face split into a sad smile. “of course i am. i’ve loved women, i’ve loved men. why not everyone else?”</p><p>something in roy softened, something he hadn’t even known was tensed. “that’s… that’s good. well, uh, i do need to head to the office, so.”</p><p>“roy,” jean argued, before a large yawn slid over his lips. roy chuckled.</p><p>“i’ll see you in a bit, okay? love you,” he added without thinking. his cheeks blazed and he closed the door to the bathroom to change. hopefully the shutting of the door would muffle his words.</p><p>but it didn’t. </p><p>jean grinned wickedly. “love you too.”</p><p>roy did his best to avoid looking at the mirror or himself as he changed quickly. grabbing his keys and his wallet, he turned back to look at jean. the other man had already fallen fast asleep, a gentle smile on his face. roy wanted to take a photograph of this moment and frame it on the mantle. the man he… the man he loved. the word fit, in a way nothing else did. he loved jean, and jean loved him. he felt that aching in his stomach again, but something about it was good this time. a need, but something that would fill him up. not make him even more empty.</p><p>the office was empty, because it was too early for anyone else to be there. but roy liked it. it was quiet, calming. he wasn’t colonel, not a commanding officer, not a state alchemist. simply roy, just himself. he was himself, and he knew that. and now jean knew that. it was a bright feeling, effervescent and bubbling inside him. he quite liked it. </p><p>roy grabbed some files off the overflowing stack, and began combing through them. it was tedious, busy work, but it was soothing, the menial repetition of it all. before he knew it, the sun had risen and staff were trickling into the small, blue hallways. riza was first. she gave him a quick hello and a curious eye, but knew better than to ask. fuery and falman came in next, then breda. jean slid in late, but his bright eyes had something brighter behind them. roy was almost afraid to ask. it was better to be professional, anyway.</p><p>“good morning, lieutenant havoc,” roy said coolly, trying his best not to let the events of the morning swirl into his tone. “i hope you saw the assignments i left you.”</p><p>jean rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, cut the crap. you’ve sucked my dick, you can call me jean.”</p><p>roy choked on his coffee, his face bright red. “havoc, i-”</p><p>“i got this for you,” jean interjected, shoving a small bag into roy’s arms. “take it, and stop being so goddamn weird.” he turned and left, but not before roy could see the small arc of a smile against his teeth.</p><p>the bag was a hideous shade of fuschia, stuffed to the brim with tissue paper. pulling it all out was certainly an effort, but it was worth it. roy wasn’t an emotional person, but he was close to it.</p><p>the bag held a soft silk camisole, the kind women wore under their shirts. it was simple, with thin straps and a small lace pattern across the top. it looked like little white flowers. roy had seen them before, in store windows, and on a poor girl he had tried to kiss in secondary school. but he’d never owned one. something about it just felt good, felt right. it wasn’t frilly or ridiculous, but it was pretty. he took the bag and oh, so gently, put it in one of his empty drawers. he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about it until he tried it on, but he had a job to do first.</p><p>he didn’t see jean until the end of the day. both had assignments to do that kept them out of each other’s way, part blessing and part curse. roy had just finished his, when jean stuck his head through the doorway. “what’d ya think?” he asked with a sharp grin.</p><p>“it’s perfect,” roy said roughly. “thank you.”</p><p>jean just nodded.”of course. my place?”</p><p>“your place,” roy agreed. he was sick of cooking.</p><p>jean made to leave, then turned back. “bring it with you, will you? i think you’ll need an expert’s opinion on how it looks. and i’m qualified in both categories.”</p><p>roy rolled his eyes, but a soft smile rolled its way across his face. “you’re a fool, havoc.”</p><p>“yes, but i’m your fool,” jean shot back with glee.</p><p>“that you are,” roy said, something almost wistful in his voice, “that you are.”</p>
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